Saltbitter
by Domini Porter
Summary: Companion piece to "Honeysweet." Jane's experience of Maura's abduction. Still pretty surreal, still pretty weird. Still kind of pretty, though, in its own crazy way.
1. Dreams and Revelations

Jane woke abruptly in the middle of the night though she couldn't say why. She had been sleeping very deeply, dreaming of distant fires and the hollow rumble of far-off explosions.

The world had been ending in her dream. She did not usually dream, but in her dream the world had been ending. There had been something else, a woman standing just behind her who Jane could not identify. The woman had been trying to tell Jane something, she had tried to turn and face her, but the distant fires had flared up, the far-off explosions ricocheted in her ears_._

_She's trying to say something to me. To tell me something. But the fires are getting closer, I have to get us out of here._

She shook her head, trying to clear her mind enough to identify any immediate threats. Jane did not wake up in the night unless someone was after her, unless someone was there, but she was alone. She felt strange, though, more alone than alone, as though something was missing but she couldn't identify what it was.

She slipped out of bed and padded to the kitchen for a drink of water. She could hear birds beginning to sing; it was near dawn.

* * *

"Where's Maura?" she asked, adding sugar to her coffee. Frost shrugged.

"Haven't seen her yet."

"That's weird," Jane frowned. "She's usually here before anybody.

"Maybe she didn't have anything scheduled this morning."

"Maura _always_ has something scheduled. Even if it's a quick jaunt through the style section."

"What, she doesn't get the paper at home?"

Jane shot him a look. "How would I know?"

Frost raised his eyebrows, and shrugged. "I didn't say anything."

"Yeah, well, you sound best when you're not saying anything."

"Hey now."

"Where's the doc?" Korsak shuffled up to the counter, pouring himself a cup of coffee before realizing Jane had already made him one.

"Not here yet," Frost replied.

"That's weird."

"I told you," Jane muttered. Frost shrugged.

Jane headed down the hallway to the bullpen, worrying the phone at her hip. It wasn't like Maura to be late anywhere, especially not to work. She heard a far-off crash somewhere in the building, the low sounds of apology. She thought she caught a glimpse of a distant fire out of the corner of her eye.

_Come on, Jane, it was just a dream. It was a weird dream, kind of scary, but you've had worse._

She couldn't shake the feeling of a woman standing just behind her, wanting to speak to her. Couldn't shake the feeling that she needed to hear what the woman had to say.

"Jane?"

"Yeah," she muttered, rubbing the back of her neck.

"She probably just overslept or something. Come on, we've got work to do." Frost tapped her on the elbow and kept going down the hall.

_Maura, where are you?_

Jane flipped the phone from its holster and hit a button. She felt her breath growing shallower with each successive unanswered ring. Her stomach turned hard and cold, she had the feeling she had when she approached a crime scene for the first time, but this time—

"Jane?" Frost paused at the doorway to the bullpen. "You okay?"

"She's not answering," Jane said, frowning. "Frost, do you think you can-"

"Yeah," he cut her off. "Sure. No problem. Just try to be back by lunch, Cavanaugh's supposed to be coming in to chew all of us shiny new assholes over improperly-filed paperwork."

"Okay, thanks," she said absently, wheeling around and striding back toward the front doors.

She drove to Maura's house, both dazed and sharply focused, her senses impossibly keen but her mind far from the road. She kept seeing the flickering of distant fires.

She pulled up to the house and moved quickly to the door, stopping so fast she moved a step backward when she saw it was half-open, no lights on inside. Her hand flew to her gun.

"Maura?"

Jane edged into the house. Everything was quiet, the songs of the birds outside amplifying the absolute stillness. She could tell Maura wasn't there. She could feel it.

She pulled out her phone and dialed Maura again. For a moment there was only the low burr of the phone ringing in her ear but then she could hear another sound, she could hear Maura's phone as it buzzed softly against the granite countertop.

There was a sudden rush of blood in her ears and for a moment she couldn't hear anything, everything was obscured by the heavy thrum of her pulse. She felt explosions ricocheting through her body. She closed her eyes and saw distant fires.

_Maura, where are you?_

She hung up and dialed another number. "Frost," she said, her voice tight. "She's not here."

"Like, ran-out-for-milk-and-forgot-to-text-you not there, or what?"

"Like her front door was wide open and there's nobody _here_."

His tone shifted instantly. "We'll be right there."

_Maura, where are you? What happened to you?_

She closed her eyes and felt the woman behind her, the one she could not turn to see, the one who was trying to tell her something Jane needed to hear.

_Was it you, Maura? Were you standing behind me while the world was ending? Were you trying to tell me something? I'm listening, Maura, what is it? Where are you?_

* * *

_Forty hours_.

Jane kept repeating the number over and over in her head. It had been forty hours since she'd gone to Maura's house and found her missing, it had been thirty-nine hours since they'd discovered white nylon fibers on the floor of her entryway, it had been thirty-three hours since the tire treads pulled from her driveway had come up so common as to be worthless.

It had been Jane's whole life since she'd felt like she could breathe. It had been her whole life since Maura had disappeared, had been taken, it had been her whole life.

It had been forty-five hours since she'd awoken so abruptly from a dream of the world ending.

_Maura, please, what did you want to tell me? I'm listening, Maura, please_.

Jane had not slept, had not eaten, had not stopped moving for an instant. When she felt herself slowing to a halt she thought of Maura's face, when she closed her eyes she heard Maura's voice, when she took a breath she could smell faintly Maura's perfume, expensive, like flowers she'd never even heard of.

_Forty hours. Forty-five._

"Jane?" Frost's voice was soft, kind, hesitant. "Jane, you need to get some sleep."

"I'm fine," she snapped. "I've got this."

"He's right, Janie," Korsak said. "You're not very good right now, and you're gonna be no good at all if you keep going like this."

"I have to _find_ her, Korsak," she nearly shouted. "She's been gone forty-five hours, and that only leaves three-"

"Forty," Frost said, his tone slightly quizzical.

Jane stopped. She hadn't told anyone about the dream, hadn't told anyone about the phantom woman who was following her everywhere, trying to tell her something Jane was sure she needed to hear. She knew how it would sound to them, to Frost and Korsak, even though she knew they trusted her, believed in her, wanted to find Maura almost as much as she did.

_They want to find her just as much as you do, Jane. They love her just as much as you do._

_They don't, though—_

Jane shook her head. "I'm fine." She dropped the file—Maura's file—on her desk and stormed out of the room.

_Maura, please—_

* * *

_There were distant fires and far-off explosions. Everything she saw was cratered and smoking, there were jagged, blown-out shells of buildings she'd known, twisted shells of cars, and there, at the end of a long stretch of road shimmering with apocalyptic heat, a woman standing silhouetted against the burning air, the smoke and haze dulling everything to a sickly honeyed glow. The wail of sirens and the crackling of a thousand explosions is dulled too, into a low, heavy drone. She calls out to the woman but her voice vanishes a few inches from her mouth, she can see it happen, she can see the words turn to vapor and the woman is disappearing over the skyline; the world is ending, she still does not know what it is she needs to know but the woman is disappearing over the skyline and the world is ending—_

Jane jerked awake. She grabbed her phone.

Nothing.

_Sixty-two hours_.

She knew from experience there was a high probability that Maura was already—

_Don't think it, Jane. Don't even finish the sentence. Don't let yourself start to believe it even a little bit, not even though the woman in your dream was moving away from you, all you have to do is catch up. You'll find her before she disappears. You have to._

She hadn't meant to fall asleep but she'd sat down to go through the logs of anonymous tips and suddenly she'd been there again, staring at the end of the world, suddenly she'd been bathed in heat and noise and she was watching the woman who she could almost recognize, whose face was just slightly obscured, the woman who had something to tell her that Jane knew she needed to hear, she was watching her disappear over the horizon into a sky the thick amber of honey, the shimmering crimson of blood.

_Sixty-two hours._

The bullpen was deserted. Jane angrily flipped through the tip log, her eyes burning with exhaustion and fear and rage. The words began to blur together on the page, and Jane began to catch flashes of distant fires out of the corner of her eye. She took a deep breath and smelled flowers she'd never even heard of.

_Maura, where are you? Do any of these people know where you are? Did any of these people take you? Did any of these people hurt you? I swear, Maura, I swear on my life, I swear if anyone hurt you I will kill them, please Maura, help me find you. Tell me where you are._

She did not notice the droplets clouding the page, making the ink run together into faded, unintelligible blurs. She did not taste the salt on her lips, she tasted only the faintest hint of acrid black smoke, the faintest breath of flowers.

_Sixty-two hours._

* * *

When it happened, it happened so fast.

A gas station attendant had remembered a pretty woman with honey-colored hair paying for a heavyset bald man's gas. Remembered there had been something odd in the way he'd looked at her, the way he'd watched her until she was gone. Had remembered that the car had Vermont plates.

Had said "yes" when they'd shown him Maura's picture.

_I'm coming to find you, Maura, I'm so much closer, please hold on._

Jane knew she was alive, or she hoped it so much she couldn't believe anything else. Frost and Korsak offered no speculation, merely nodded at her and went back to coordinating efforts with the Vermont authorities.

_Maura, Maura, Maura, please hold on, please, I'm coming. _

It had been a hundred and eighteen hours since Maura had been taken. Nearly five days.

Jane had spent nearly all of it at the precinct except for the few hours she'd spent driving aimlessly through the nearest rural areas she could find, trying to clear her head. She hadn't slept more than two or three hours in every thirty-six; when she did she was caught up in heat, in violence, in a world that was ending, the dry hiss of smoke in her nose, the honey-thickness of blood on her tongue. Always the woman whose face she could not see, whose name she could nearly touch, always the woman disappearing, or behind her, or nothing more than a soft amber haze, a low constant hum.

_Maura, I'm going to find you. We're so close now. I know it. Please, please, please wait for me. I promise you I will find you, Maura, because if I don't I'm not sure what I'd do, I'm not sure if I could forgive myself, I'm not sure I'd want anyone to—_

"Jane."

She looked up. Frost was leaning around the doorway, his jacket halfway on. Jane shot up. "Where?" she demanded, but she was already out the door.

* * *

"Don't you let them go in there, Frost," Jane had said. "Don't you let them fuck this up."

_If he hurt you I will kill him, Maura, I won't let them take that from me, if he hurt you I swear on my life he will die right now, by my hand. _

The smell of honey had permeated the air; the low drone of bees had sent a chill down Jane's spine as she approached the long, low wooden building.

_Maura, I'm coming_—

She kicked down the door, gun in hand. The buzzing was deafening. "Maura?" she shouted, trying to see clearly in the dim amber light. A single bulb hung from the center of the room. Smoke drifted through the air, the bees hummed incessantly, the smell of honey was making her dizzy.

"Maura?"

A sudden scuffle from the far corner of the room. Jane tried to navigate the maze of hives as best she could, barely conscious of herself. She adjusted her grip on her weapon. "Maura?"

More sounds of movement. Jane saw a dark shape flash between two boxes.

"Hey!" she yelled. "Police, stop where you are!"

The figure did not stop. The arm raised. The barrel glowed faintly red in the dim honey light.

Jane shot once, twice. She darted to the spot and saw him there on the ground, twitching, blood pooling around his body. The bees hummed ferociously.

She spared less than a glance for the dead man.

"Maura? Are you here?"

_Maura please please be here, please, I am here, I killed him like I promised, Maura, please—_

She was there, lying on the ground in front of a wooden chair. She was laying on her side away from Jane, her face obscured. She wasn't moving. On the floor next to her Jane caught a glimpse of something small and shiny. A needle.

Jane dropped to her knees. "Maura," she whispered, less a word than a breath, less a breath than a silent howl.

_The smell of smoke is choking me. There is honey and blood and Maura I found you, please stay with me, please Maura, please—_

* * *

Okay, well, here we go again, and I'm pretty excited that so many people were so into the idea of a companion piece to _Honeysweet_. So excited, in fact, I decided to write one! There will be three chapters, just like the other story, and they'll be roughly parallel. Thanks again for your support and your kind words, because you've probably heard it before but telling a writer you like their work is most likely the only compensation they get for writing their stories, and we cannot ever get enough. Your love is like gold, is what I'm saying. _Precious to me._


	2. Deep Water

_Oh God, Maura, oh God, please be all right, please be okay, Maura, please be alive, please please please—_

"Maura?" Jane dropped to her knees next to Maura's body, afraid for a moment to touch her, afraid of what she might feel. The room was thick with honey and an endless droning, with the soft gray of smoke drifting like feathers through the air. Maura was on her side, facing away. Her face was obscured.

_It was you, Maura, in my dream, you were there when the world was ending and I couldn't see your face, you were walking away from me, please don't walk away, Maura, please, stay with me._

"Maura? I'm here, okay?"

"Jane," she whispered, more breath than word. Jane's heart dropped and soared, the breath suddenly forced out of her in relief and anguish.

"Jane . . ." Maura's voice was faint, her eyes still closed. She looked unmarked, there was no blood, she had no immediately visible injuries. Still something terrible had happened to her in this room, something dark and violent, and Jane couldn't think about it, she couldn't, all she could think about was Maura, was getting Maura out of there.

"Maura," Jane breathed, her hands flying to Maura's face, her arms, pressing gently all over her body, feeling for wounds. Her body was warm, it was too warm, it was too pliant; Maura offered no help or resistance, her limbs loose and fluid. She sighed faintly as Jane touched her, the sound trailing off into the deafening song of the bees.

"Maura, I need you to be here with me right now, okay?" Jane was trying to keep the overwhelming terror she felt contained within her, though she knew she had never experienced anything like this.

_When Death came for you before I could see his face, I could fight him off, I was strong enough to pull his hands off you, Maura, but I don't know where you've been, I don't know what you've seen, I don't know how he touched you, Maura, I don't know, I haven't seen his face this time and I don't know if I can save you. _

"Jane," Maura whispered again, and Jane squeezed her hand reflexively, her eyes squeezing shut at the sound, at the thousands of meanings hiding in it.

"Maura, please, stay with me."

_Honey and smoke and salt and blood. This is all there is, Maura, in my dream the world was ending and everything was honey and smoke and salt and blood. In my dream you were leaving me and I tried to call out to you but you didn't hear me and I'm here now, Maura, and please, I need you to hear me._

"I'm here," she murmured, and Jane could feel her faintly squeezing back.

"Maura, what happened? Are you all right?"

_What a stupid question, Jane, of course she's not all right, but she's alive, she's talking to you. Keep talking to her. Keep her here._

"Drugged," Maura said, her voice thick.

"I can see that," Jane replied, trying to breathe. Trying not to sound as though the world was ending around her.

_Just get her out of here. You have to get her out of here._

She slipped her arm under Maura's shoulders, tried to lift her off the ground, but Maura's eyes slid closed and her head lolled back, she was so pale, she was glowing in the honeylight, her body burned in Jane's arms.

"Maura, _please._ I need to you to stay with me, okay? Do you know what he gave you?" Her voice was hard, desperate. She could not try to be anything other than she was at that moment, could not be anything other than fear and despair and need, could not do anything other than keep Maura alive.

"Opiate," Maura tried, rolling her head forward with tremendous effort. "Heroin, maybe. Or Fentanyl. Needles."

_Needles on the ground glowing red as blood in this light, the sky in my dream was pierced with needles and you were walking away—_

"Oh God," Jane muttered. "Okay, I'm gonna get you out of here. Let's go, Maura, we've got to get out of here."

"Yes," Maura murmured.

_He hurt you, Maura, he hurt you and I killed him, I swore I would and I did it with my own hands. He hurt you, Maura, what did he do to you, I would kill him over and over, I would do it forever. I have to get you out of here, we have to get out of here, stay with me, Maura, please, please, he won't touch you again but we have to get out of here._

"Come on," Jane said with a softness she didn't think herself capable of in that anguished moment. She touched Maura's cheek briefly. It was all she could handle, that one gentle touch, the febrile heat of Maura's skin searing Jane to the bone. "Come on, you can do this, okay? It's not too far. I know you can do this. Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?"

_How did he hurt you—_

"Not badly, I . . . don't think," Maura said. Her breath was shallow, labored, her thoughts seemed to be far behind.

Jane pulled her up, one arm circling Maura's waist, the other holding Maura's arm around her shoulder. They moved forward a few steps, so slowly, Maura seeming to drift through the dense air as though Jane had reached into a dream of the world ending and pulled her straight out from it, death still grasping at her heels, trying to pull her back.

_You can't have her. I fought your hands off her this time too, you can't have her, she's mine—_

"There's blood in your hair," Jane said abruptly. She had seen it out of the corner of her eye, glimmering dully in the faint amber light. She had seen it out of the corner of her eye like a distant fire. Her body went cold and numb.

"There is?" Maura mumbled. "It doesn't hurt."

_Oh God, Maura, oh God—_

"Is it your blood? Maura!" Jane stopped when Maura's eyes slipped shut again. "Maura, please. Please, God, please stay here with me, okay? Just a little bit farther."

"Mm-hmm," she murmured, and Jane was not certain she had heard her, or understood, or could hear or understand. The taste of blood in her nose, her mouth, the smell of honey, of flowers, she did not feel the salt on her cheeks, she felt only the heat of Maura's body, the obliterating fear.

"Where are you hurt?" Jane helped Maura sink to a sitting position on the edge of a crate. "Babe, _where are you hurt?_" Jane's hands fluttered over Maura's face and head, searching for the injury.

"Oh God," Jane whispered after a moment. She pulled her hand away from the back of Maura's head, her fingers slick with blood. "No, no, no," she breathed, her voice raw, terrified. "Okay, Maura, time to go, come on."

"I'm tired," Maura said faintly. "Can we stop?"

"We can't stop, okay, we have to keep going. You're hurt, Maura, and it's . . . it's bad, okay? So we have to keep going. Frost and Korsak are right outside, we're almost there."

_Frost and Korsak are right outside. Right outside, we're almost there, Maura, we're so close, please stay with me, please, please—_

"Only you," Maura murmured.

_Only you, Maura. There's only you. You have to stay with me, if you were gone I wouldn't be able to—I couldn't—_

"I know," Jane said, her voice flat, expressionless, she was afraid if she let herself feel even for a second the terrifying pressure building inside her with each ragged breath she would not be able to continue. "Almost there. Do you see that light?"

"Yes," Maura said. "Is it far? My head hurts, Jane."

They were maybe six or seven feet from the front door, and Jane could vaguely hear the sounds of intense action, the far-off blare of sirens growing nearer, she could hear Frost and Korsak shouting, the dull thud of a helicopter's blades. She could hear Maura's shallow breathing louder than anything else, it was louder than the cacophony outside, it was louder even than the pressing drone of the bees, it was the only thing Jane could fully comprehend.

_As long as she keeps breathing the world still exists._

"Jane," Maura mumbled.

"Yeah?"

"My head hurts."

"I—I know," Jane said. "I know it does, honey. We're gonna make you feel better, okay? Just a couple more steps."

_Come on, Maura, please, I need you to do this, I know you can do this, I need you to do it, I need you—_

"No," Maura gasped as the light outside grew brighter, the helicopter landed, the police cars swarmed in. "No, Jane, my head-"

She gasped again and her eyes slid closed. She collapsed against Jane.

"Maura?"

Nothing.

Jane didn't think, couldn't think, Jane reached down and swept Maura into her arms, cradling her, carrying her out into a world flooded with light.

* * *

"Maura?" Jane tried again. She'd been trying for hours, for days. Every few minutes she whispered Maura's name and held her breath, watching Maura's face carefully for any sign of recognition.

_Her face_.

Maura had been in a coma since Jane had pulled her away from the grasping hands of death, had pulled her safely back into the world. The blow to her head had worried the doctors, who warned Jane she may have suffered more than they knew.

_He hurt you, Maura, he hurt you so badly; I thought as long as you were breathing the world would still exist, but you're here in this hospital bed and your face is so still, there are machines helping you stay alive, if they switched off this button you would—_

Jane shook her head. She couldn't allow herself to think about it, even for a second. When she closed her eyes she saw Maura, the woman she could at last recognize as Maura, disappearing over a destroyed horizon.

"Maura, are you awake?"

She stirred. Jane gripped the railing of the hospital bed with one hand until her knuckles whitened, keeping the hand clasped around Maura's loose. She held her breath until the edges of her vision blurred to black. Maura grimaced, sighed.

"It's okay, Maura, take it slow."

"Jane?"

Her breath came rushing back in at the sound of Maura's voice.

_She knows it's me. She knows I'm here. She knows I would never leave her, that I would stay with her until there was nothing left in the world, until it had all burned away; until the moment after that, and the moment after that._

"Yeah," was all Jane could manage to say, "it's me."

"What happened?"

_He hurt you, Maura. He took you and he hurt you and he did terrible things to you, and if I can do anything for you it's hold those terrible things deep inside me forever so that you never have to know._

She didn't say anything. She closed her eyes. She could taste smoke in her mouth, thick black smoke, and hear far-off explosions.

"What's that beeping?"

"You're in the hospital, Maura. You were . . . hurt."

"Oh," Maura said. "What's that beeping?"

"They had to put you on a bunch of monitors and stuff," Jane said, cycling back the horror for both their sakes. "You look kinda like an alien."

Maura didn't speak. She didn't move. She didn't open her eyes.

"Can you . . . can you open your eyes, Maura? Please?"

_Please, Maura, oh God, please, please do this thing._

"Hurts," Maura mumbled.

_He hurt you—_

"Okay," Jane whispered. "When you're ready."

* * *

Jane was there when she opened her eyes. Jane had not been anywhere else.

Frost and Korsak stopped by regularly and brought her coffee and news. The man she had killed, the one who had hurt Maura, had murdered seven women. He had taken them and drugged them and done terrible things to them, had put poison in them and left them to die.

He had kept Maura the longest. They supposed he had hit her because he'd been found, otherwise they had no idea how long she would have survived.

Jane closed her eyes at that.

_Survived_

She still saw distant fires out of the corner of her eye. She still tasted smoke, and honey, but as each minute passed the smell of flowers grew stronger; the longer she stayed by Maura's side the more the ghost of Maura's perfume overpowered her.

She had been crying ceaselessly for days but did not taste the salt on her tongue, did not feel it on her skin. Frost and Korsak said nothing.

_Maura, please, I know you will be all right. You have to be all right. Please._

Then—

"Jane?" Maura's eyelids fluttered.

"I'm here," she said, leaning in close. The machinery had been removed; it was just Maura's fragile body, soft and slight when compared with the hard gleaming whiteness of the hospital room.

_I'm here, Maura, I would watch the world burn and I would listen to the explosions and I would taste honey in my mouth forever to be here with you._

"I'm here," she whispered again.

"My head hurts," Maura murmured.

"I know it does, sweetheart."

"What happened?"

_I had a dream that the world was ending and you were there._

Jane didn't say anything for a moment, couldn't think of anything that wouldn't cause the bitterness of smoke to fill her mouth, the sound of distant explosions, the drone of bees.

"You were hurt, Maura," she said finally. "Someone . . . hurt you."

It wasn't enough. It was too much.

"But you came for me."

"Yeah," Jane said. She found herself nearly unable to speak to Maura, so overcome with sorrow and joy and pain and bliss and the simple nearness of her, alive, speaking, something she realized she had taken for granted, something she would never neglect again.

_You are a miracle, Maura, and you are here, you are alive, you are awake and the world will not end as long as you are here, Maura; I saved you but I was saving myself, please forgive me for being so selfish_.

"You saved me," Maura murmured, the faintest smile at the corners of her mouth. Her voice was sweet as honey, soft as smoke.

"Yeah," Jane whispered again. "I—"

She stopped. She didn't know what to say. She wanted to say everything, she wanted to tell Maura that she was everything, but she was afraid, even though she had nearly lost everything, had realized she had nearly lost everything.

_I couldn't keep going without you. I saved you to save myself. Please forgive me, Maura. Please_.

"Hmm?" Maura was blinking drowsily, slipping back into sleep. Jane squeezed her hand softly, running her thumb over the angry red mark where they'd put the needle, the good needle, the saving needle. Her eyes drifted to the crook of Maura's arm, the small black bruises there, where he had put the poison in her.

_Don't look at it_

She didn't taste the salt on her lips. She didn't feel it on her skin.

* * *

"I wasn't afraid," Maura said on the second day.

"Of what?" Jane leaned forward suddenly, startled by Maura's voice. She hadn't moved from the bedside since Maura had been brought in, had spent long hours drifting in and out of a consciousness of her own, spent what felt like endless nights catching herself on the edge of sleep, surprised by the terror she felt at the idea of the dreams she might have.

_But she's here. She's alive. The world didn't end. The doctors are afraid she's more hurt than any of us knows, though. She doesn't remember anything and I will keep those things from her as long as I can, I will hold them my whole life so she doesn't have to know how he hurt her, but she doesn't remember anything, she doesn't hold on to anything, she is still somewhere else, having dreams of her own. _

"Of dying."

Jane felt something shift deep inside her. She closed her eyes briefly, saw distant fires, heard far-off explosions.

"Because you were there with me," Maura said, squeezing Jane's hand, trying to say more than either of them could articulate.

"That's not what I meant," she murmured.

"I know," Jane said, her voice thick. She began to taste the salt on her lips.

"I'm glad I didn't die," Maura said, placing her own hand on Jane's. "I'm glad you didn't have to be there . . . for that."

"I've been there for _almost_ that too many times," Jane mumbled, trying to say more than she could articulate. "And so have you, so let's stop doing that, okay?" Maura smiled faintly. Jane felt her heart start beating again at the sight of it.

_I wouldn't leave you, Maura, I would never leave you, I would stay with you until there was nothing left in the world, until it had all burned away; until the moment after that, and the moment after that._


	3. Ashfall

She woke up in the middle of the night from a dream of a dream of the world ending.

She sat bolt upright, her heart pounding, sweat trickling down the back of her neck, the faintest taste of smoke in her mouth. The thunder of far-off explosions echoed in her ears.

_But I saved you, Maura. I found you and I saved you and maybe it was to save myself but you're here, you're alive, you're whole—_

Jane closed her eyes. Took a deep breath. She caught the lightest note of flowers.

She pushed herself off the bed and padded into the kitchen for a drink of water. She heard the birds outside beginning to sing. It was near dawn.

* * *

"Maura?" Jane said, in the quiet way she now had sometimes. Maura started in her chair. Jane could tell she'd been gone, she'd been away, she'd been swimming in an ocean Jane could never fathom.

"Yes?"

"Are you feeling all right?" Jane asked because it was what she asked now; she asked because Maura had drifted farther away from her than she had been ready for. She asked because she was no longer sure just by looking at her, because Maura's eyes had turned honey-colored and Jane did not understand the language in them. She had tried without trying too hard, trying to know Maura again without Maura seeing her uncertainty, but Jane couldn't be sure Maura saw anything any more.

"I'm fine, Jane," she said, and Jane looked at her askance.

"Are you . . . sure?" She tried to hide the fluttering anxiety in her voice, tried to find the right tone.

"I'm fine," Maura said again, smiling in a way that didn't reach her eyes, didn't dim the honeylight glowing there. "My head aches sometimes, but the occurrence is less frequent."

"And you're doing . . . okay other than that?"

Maura smiled again, more gently, more brightly. "Yes," she said softly. "There are still moments when things . . . come back, but for the most part I feel very much myself."

"Okay," Jane said, but she couldn't hide the sadness in her voice, couldn't entirely hide the anguish she still felt when she looked at Maura's face, overlaid with the image of her surrounded by the dense haze of smoke and the heavy drone of bees, her face pale as the moon, her body made of fire. "Maura—"

"Yes?"

There was a long pause. Jane turned her face away briefly, rubbed at her own scars.

_At least mine are visible. At least I can remember, but I don't want you ever to remember, Maura, what he did to you was a hundred times worse, a thousand, he took part of you away from me. _

Jane shook her head imperceptibly.

_He took part of you away from everyone. From yourself. But Maura, he took you from me and I don't know where you went, I don't know how to bring you back. I saved you, Maura, I saved you from him and I pulled you away from Death and I claimed you for this life; I saw distant fires that meant the world was ending and if you had been taken I would have nothing, Maura, but where did you go? You are here, you are breathing, as long as you are breathing the world will not end, but where are you?_

"I'm—I'm so sorry," she mumbled. She didn't know what else to say. There was too much, it was too much, it was not enough. The hollow echo of far-off explosions rumbled too loudly in her ears.

"Jane—" Maura whispered, and stopped, and Jane would have given anything to know what she would have said next.

_Please stay with me, Maura, please, because if you went away I wouldn't be able to—_

* * *

Jane sometimes looked at her as though she wanted to speak but she said nothing. They did not know how to be.

It had been days and weeks since Maura had been taken, days and weeks since Jane had found her floating at the bottom of a sea she did not understand, since Jane had killed the man who hurt her and taken her in her arms and carried her out into a place flooded with light. Days and weeks since Jane had seen the terrifying fire and blood of the end of the world, had seen it in the bright crimson in Maura's hair, had tasted the honey and the smoke of it on her tongue, had touched it in the febrile heat of Maura's skin.

_The world was ending and you were there._

She dreamed sometimes of a woman walking away from her, pausing on the edge of a cratered horizon. In her dreams the woman looked back then plunged down, in her dreams Jane could see the cries escaping her mouth and dissolving in the air in front of her like smoke.

She didn't know what to say. They saw each other at work; Maura spent much of the rest of her time alone. Jane had tried to be with her, had tried to insist upon staying with her, but there was a distance that felt insurmountable. She had accepted Maura's soft refusals. She had accepted them.

_I don't know why I took no for an answer, Maura, I don't, but there's something between us now, there's this space, and I don't know how to get across it, to get back to you. I don't know what to say. Just please, Maura, please stay with me._

Sometimes she dreamed of nothing, she dreamed of dreams, she saw long empty stretches of smoke, she sometimes tasted salt on her lips. She woke up curled on her side, clutching at a pillow, tasting salt on her lips.

_Where did you, go, Maura, I will go there to find you, I will do anything to bring you back. _

Sometimes she woke in the night, her hand flying to her phone, her thumb poised to dial just as she became aware of what she was doing.

_Don't call her, Jane. She doesn't want to talk to you. She'd tell you if she did. _

Jane wanted desperately to talk to Maura, wanted to find in her the woman she cared about, the woman she loved—

_I love you, Maura, because you are stronger than you know. I hate him for hurting you because he took part of you away, he took part of your strength, he left you distant and quiet and strange to me, Maura, he took you away from me, and all I have is love to bring you back._

"I do," she whispered to the shadows of the shadows in the darkest part of the night. She didn't feel changed, she felt certain, she _understood_. "I love you. Where did you go?"

* * *

Jane took a deep breath. She lifted her hand.

She took a deep breath.

_Just do it. Just do it, Jane, you have to, you came here, you have to do this. For yourself. For her._

She knocked softly on the door. After a long pause she pressed her ear against it and heard nothing, felt for a moment a heavy bolt of fear shoot through her body, pressed gently at it and exhaled, trembling slightly, the tension in her back releasing, when it did not swing open at her touch. She knocked again, slightly harder.

"Hello?"

"Maura?" she called, tentative, afraid she'd interrupted something, though she did not know what. She did not know anything about Maura, she sometimes felt. Maura had become a stranger to her, and the empty look Maura gave her as she opened the door turned her heart to cinders, she tasted ashes on her tongue.

"Can I come in?" Her mouth was so dry it ached, the heavy char clinging to her, she was what was left after the world had been burned.

"Of course," and Maura stepped back to let Jane pass. Jane moved around her, a deliberate distance between them, she hated it, she felt it acutely, she wanted to reach out and crush Maura in an embrace but the depths of Maura's solitude were palpable and Jane did not know how to reach through them. She stood in the living room, burning with anxiety, trying to shake the faint echo of explosions away.

_You have to talk to her. Otherwise she will sit there looking through you, looking past you into a world you will never see, you have to talk to her and tell her all those things, you have to say it-_

"Maura, I haven't been there for you very much," she said suddenly, in a single breath. "And I wanted to tell you I'm sorry. I just—I haven't known what to say, you know? How to talk to you."

Maura said nothing. Jane took a deep breath, closed her eyes, kept talking, didn't know what else to do. The more words she said the more the fires receded from the corners of her eyes; the closer she got to saying what she wanted to say the more the honeylight seemed to dim in Maura's.

"I mean, I know we've been through stuff like this before but none of it . . . none of it really felt like this. You were gone so long, and I didn't know where you were, and all I could do was look for you, but every day that went by, I got more and more afraid." Maura I was afraid, Maura, that you were—you know. And then I found you and I didn't know if I was just going to lose you again right then. And then it took you so long to wake up, I didn't . . . I couldn't . . ."

"Sit down," Maura said softly, taking Jane's hand and pulling her down beside her.

"I was so scared, Maura. I was so scared." She took a deep breath. "And then you were so hurt, and I felt like . . . I felt like it was my fault, like I didn't get to you fast enough, and then when I found out what . . . happened, I—"

"Jane," Maura whispered. There was something in her voice so familiar Jane couldn't recognize it.

"Maura, I'm so sorry."

_It's all I can say. It's not enough. It's too much. I love you, please stay with me._

Maura reached out and touched Jane's hand. Jane flinched without meaning to.

"I don't know what to do," Jane mumbled. "I feel like I screwed up so bad, Maura, that you went through things no person should ever have to because I wasn't there, because I couldn't find you fast enough."

_I only saved you to save myself, Maura, because I love you and I need you, as long as you are with me the world is not ending. _

"Whatever you think you've done or not done, Jane, you have to know I don't agree. You saved my life," Maura said. Her head was beginning to ache. "I don't feel betrayed by you, I feel indebted."

Jane didn't speak. She couldn't think, the smell of flowers in her nose, the taste of honey on her tongue, the far-off explosions dulled into the drone of thousands of bees. She clenched her fists into hard white knots of anxiety, of despair, of fear. She tasted salt on her lips, she felt it on her skin.

"Whatever forgiveness you're looking for," Maura whispered, her voice so familiar, soft and kind, pleading and suffused with sweetness, "I offer it to you. Please, Jane. Please."

"I just . . . "

_I saved you to save myself—_

"I don't know if I want you to forgive me. I don't know if I can forgive myself," Jane said, her voice shot through with fine cracks.

_This is not what I wanted to say to you, Maura, I wanted to say I love you, that as long as you stay with me—_

She closed her eyes, felt salt slipping down her cheeks, tasted salt cutting through the sweetness of Maura's perfume, the soft heat of Maura's body next to her.

_I saved you, Maura, I can't live without you, I don't want—_

Maura sighed gently, and Jane felt the coolness of her fingers slip across the tight skin of her clenched fists, felt Maura's fingers pressing at Jane's until Jane relented. Maura's fingers wove through Jane's and Jane closed her eyes, her breath shallow, the salt in her mouth oceanbitter, she suddenly felt like she was drowning, she was being crushed beneath the waves of the days and the weeks. The fires burning on the horizons were extinguished, plumes of smoke rising into the sky, dissipating with each gentle push of Maura's fingers through hers.

_I love you, Maura, please don't leave—_

Maura pulled gently on Jane's hand until Jane felt the levees break inside her, the familiar sound in Maura's voice pouring honeyed water across the parts of her that still burned.

Jane's breath caught in her throat as she ran her fingers trembling up the length of Maura's arm, barely making contact with her skin, afraid to touch her in the places she had been hurt, desperate to-

_I don't have the right to touch you, Maura. I don't have the right to love you when I only saved you to save myself._

"I know you don't remember what happened," Jane whispered so quietly she wasn't sure for a moment she'd said anything. "And trust me, Maura, that's for the best, and I hope it never comes back to you. But I—I _know_ what happened, and Maura, I'm so sorry."

"Jane," Maura murmured. She touched Jane's cheek. Jane flinched again, from shame, from fear, from hope and from pain and from sorrow, but did not pull her face away.

"I was so scared," she whispered. She didn't know how to say anything else. It wasn't enough. It was too much.

She sat there, dreaming of a dream, cradled in Maura's arms. Salt pooled at her throat, she could smell flowers and taste honey, she did not know what to say, she could only try to explain to Maura how she was so undeserving, how she wanted so much, how she wanted—

Then Maura was lifting her chin gently, Jane's eyes downcast, afraid to look at Maura's face, afraid to see the familiar light, afraid to feel the enormity of what had been broken open in her. Maura was lifting her chin gently, and then Maura's lips were on her cheek, pressed to her skin, tasting the salt that ran like rivers there.

_I love you, Maura, I do, I saved you so I could tell you, why can't I tell you, I don't want to hurt you more but oh Maura, I want to tell you so badly—_

"I don't know, Maura," Jane mumbled. "I don't know-"

"Shh," Maura murmured. "Please don't."

She kept her lips pressed against Jane's cheek until Jane exhaled, slowly, shudderingly, the stiffness of her body beginning to give. She leaned felt Maura leaning back, leaned with her, allowed herself to be pulled against Maura's soft body, allowed her face to rest in the hollow of Maura's neck.

_In my dream the world was ending and you were there. In my dream there was fire and blood and honey and salt. In my dream you were leaving me, you were walking away, but I saved you, Maura, I saved you, and I would stay with you until the world ended, until the day after that, and the day after that._

* * *

_Thanks to all of you who stuck it out on this odd dreamy trip, it was fun at first, and then immensely difficult, and then so overwhelming to think about finishing that I almost didn't, but in the end, obviously, I did. Many many thanks and so much appreciation and love to all of you who went dreaming with me 3_


End file.
